


I Never Meant (to leave)

by No_maj



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Background Relationships, Enemies to Lovers, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Guess who, Tratie, idiots who don't know what to do with feelings, injured tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-09-28 12:31:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17183045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_maj/pseuds/No_maj
Summary: She's 18 when Travis Stoll leaves.She's 23 when he slips back in, bruised and bloody, and it feels worse, hurts worse than any prank he's pulled before.Travis Stoll and Katie Gardner five years on and what they've made of themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

She's 18 when Travis Stoll leaves.

A heavy fog swirled around her knees as she ambled towards the camp store. It had been two months since the last Giant War, and with campers frequently moving between Camp Jupiter and Half-Blood, business was nonstop, hence why she had risen earlier than her fellow campers to prepare for the day ahead.

Though it had been months since she had pulled shifts – Miranda no longer needed her help running the place as she once did – she had claimed a cold coming down upon her the night before and had begged – watery red-rimmed eyes, rattling wheezes and all – for Katie to take over for the day. 

Before long, the camp store came into view; a sturdy shack at best, its windows were dusty, leaves littered the expansive porch and the signpost hung crookedly from its stand. Katie tutted at Miranda's carelessness. Though Demeter's children may be known for their austerity, they could be very absentminded.

She fixed the crooked signpost as she walked past and fitted seamlessly the key into the door, ready to escape the morning chill, when –

Smack! A large figure knocked into her, sweeping her body of her feet and onto her back. Streamers and confetti exploded from the entrance and cheerily showered the otherwise grungy porch. Dimly, she noticed 'Congratulations' playing, the jingle 'congratulations… and celebrations…' filling the air as she saw with mounting horror that the store had been completely filled with – and realised with growing dread and clarity – balloons plastered with a familiar face grinning beatifically at her shocked form from above. The orange camp t-shirts, she noticed, in addition, had the pegasus similarly replaced. Everything inside, she realised had been altered. Even more so, banners had unfurled from the ceiling to read, 'CONGRATULATIONS, KATIE GARDNER!'

Oh no.

Three months she had gone, blissfully unassailed by the elder Stoll as they had all collectively worked together to deal – then heal – the rift between Romans and Greeks. Three, blissful, months. It had been a foolish idea to believe he had finally changed his trickster ways.

Speaking of which - she thought as she picked herself up and glared mutinously at the thing that had knocked her over and realised it was a life-sized inflatable Travis that bobbed merrily back and forth - where was he?

It was suspicious enough he wasn't nearby to crow about his new victory, so she took a deep breath, ready to rain judgement when –

"Hey, Kit-Kat."

She whirled around and there, leaning against a tree and smiling easily at her distress, stood Travis Stoll.

"Stoll," she said, through gritted teeth.

He looked freshly shaven and washed, curls sticking damply to his forehead as he gazed lazily at the scene he'd made. She imagined seeing the store from his eyes; her, with her frazzled hair and flannel, glaring flintily at him whilst framed perfectly by his own memorabilia.

The thought made her mad.

Katie stormed down the stairs, willing the grass to grow thick and twine across his legs, restraining him in place. "Gods help me, you'd better invent a perfectly reasonable excuse for this, or–"

Travis chuckled and held his hands out placidly, "Easy, easy, Kit-Kat," he said, teeth glinting in the faint light as his smile widened, "I can explain everything," and whipped out a party popper from behind his back, causing an almighty bang and a smattering of colourful streamers to shower the air.

Katie flinched at the noise and swatted at him. "Put those things away. It's too early in the morning."

They were virtually chest to chest, and Katie, still simmering with rage, swiftly pulled out her knife and held it to his throat, edge pressed dangerously close to his jugular. I'm going to kill him, she thought and wondered deliriously if Hermes would smite her for murdering his son.

"Okay, I can definitely explain," Travis said as he eyed her knife. His Adam's apple bobbed nervously. Katie looked on silently, unimpressed, and shifted her stance to edge her knife closer. Blood welted thinly from his throat and Travis eyed it in alarm.

"Hey! You should be ecstatic!" Travis continued as he struggled to remove himself from the grass holding him down.

"Ecstatic?" Katie deadpanned, "I don't think so. What did you want to prove this time, hm? You were doing so well this time too – two months and no pranks on my end. And you just had to begin again, didn't –"

He briefly narrowed his eyes against her tirade. "I'm leaving."

"…And I have done nothing to deserve – wait, what? You're leaving?" she said incredulously.

He nodded. "Leaving."

It was solely then did Katie noticed the closeness of him. His breath came out in short pants as his hands – which had wormed its way around the wrist of her knife hand – struggled to prevent further damage. She glanced upwards and noticed the muscles tightening in his arms, betraying the ease in which he held her off. A bead of sweat glistened in the hollow of his throat and mingled with his blood before disappearing into his white tee. Guiltily, Katie told herself to look away.

She gulped imperceptibly, removed the pressure from his sweat-slicked throat and stepped back to cross her arms in disapproval. "You can't just… leave!"

He let out a gasp of relief at having the immediate danger removed and sidestepped the unsaid question hanging in the air.

"Of course, I can! It's why I made this awesome setup." Upon saying he absently picked at a stray strand of confetti sticking in her chestnut hair. She pawed irritably at his hand and ignored her stuttering heartbeat. "This way everyone can have a piece of me while I'm gone -- " He winked, and Katie rolled her eyes " -- and it's my little farewell gift to my favourite person."

She knew he meant how easy it was to rile her up, how she – and her cabin – had been the victim of many pranks because of this, and yet…

They both looked back at the Travis infested balloons and banners. They looked at each other again. Travis's eyes glimmered with mirth.

"And Connor?" she asked, ignoring his implications.

Travis shrugged. "He's cabin leader while I'm off for college."

Katie felt her heart nearly sputter to a stop.

College. He was leaving… for college.

It hit with startling clarity that Travis would no longer be at camp. Always within her peripheral and irritating at best, he had always been a constant in her life. And though she told herself it was for the best – _finally, finally he was growing up_ – she couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed. No more would she have to constantly swat his sneaky fingers away from her strawberries as she diligently worked the fields in the heavy weather. No more would their easy bickering continue, unbroken, as they crossed paths in their routines and no more would the Stoll brothers' pranks run smoothly – like a perfunctory machine – to break up the monotonous days. And though she heavily disapproved of their pranks – _it was her role in this game they played_ – a smile always wormed its way across her face, slipping like water if Travis so much as glanced her way. 

Life, she understood, would be terribly boring without him.

The tendrils of grass holding Travis into place slowly slipped away. He grinned crookedly at her though his gaze remained steady, a glimmer of wariness colouring his eyes.

No more Travis Stoll.

"Fine," Katie sniffed, nose upturned and turned away to walk back into the store. "But someone's cleaning this up, and it won't be me."

She hoped he would stop her (say something, anything) and missed the slight frown that crossed his features as he thumbed the cut on his throat.

"I- I'll see you around then, Kit-Kat."

Katie paused. The tightness in his tone made her turn around, a something ready to burst from her mouth but his back had already turned. She watched him walk towards the camp's entrance, hands hidden in his pockets and backpack swung carelessly over a shoulder.

Katie leaned across the railing of the front porch and watched his figure disappear. "Goodbye Travis," She sighed.

And when she finally sat down behind the counter surrounded by Travis's farewell gift cluttering the small store, feeling slightly lonesome in his absence, she realised she had no idea what college he was leaving for, nor when he'd be back.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

She's 23 when Travis Stoll falls back into her life.

Initially, she's keenly aware of his absence. Hands move automatically to swat away sneaky fingers from her strawberries as she diligently works the fields only to remember he's gone. These new fingers belong to that of his siblings, the younger Hermes campers who seemed to have idolised the Stoll brothers.

She pretends she doesn't notice them, grubby little fingers pilfering her baskets after she realises it's their way of missing him too.

She's cordial with Connor Stoll, who's mellowed a little with the absence of his cunning brother. They banter the same way she once did with Travis, though they don't reach the same intensity and familiarity as they did with his other half. Sometimes, she forgets she's speaking to Connor. It's a fault many make; they share the same unruly brown curls hanging over glittering eyes, the same angular faces, the same broad shoulders and long fingers that itch to steal and pick and touch and yet, Katie Gardner is not like the others - she's always known. Connor is not Travis. He's his own person, and she's doing him a disservice by even thinking otherwise.

Witty retorts die on her lips as she recalls this. He pretends not to notice and picks up their conversations easily when they fall from her lips like dead leaves and she realises, that it's his way of missing him too.

Connor – as Travis had said – did inevitably become the sole leader of cabin 11. Without him, however, the recognisable Stoll-centric pranks died down considerably. She supposes that between the two of them; Connor was the planner whilst Travis was the doer. The pranks from the Hermes cabin don't die down in intensity or quantity as the younger generation clamour to fill his space and she still recognises Connor's personal touch in these newer pranks, though he's no longer seen in the front lines.

It equally doesn't fail to escape her notice, that pranks targeted towards herself and her cabin have stopped virtually altogether.

And though she tells herself it wasn't as if she liked him, no – he was maddeningly irritating, a thorn in her side, a strawberry thief, a swindler and yet, exasperatingly funny, kind... she stops herself from following that path and rubs down the pegasus she's attending to with increased vigour – she can admit to herself that she does miss him and the constant sight of him in her line of vision.

At 20, Katie realises there's more to life than just camp; more to life than just questing and training and teaching and decides upon a change of pace, a change of scene. Almost immediately she decides upon opening a nursery and it's a near-spontaneous decision – a rarity for children of Demeter – and enlists the help of her siblings and the Hecate cabin to open one just outside New York.

Simply dubbing it, The Delta Nursery, in homage to her home – cabin four – Katie cuts a space for herself amongst the questing and training and teaching where she could wholly purely be. The Hecate Cabin enshroud the nursery with mist, preventing monsters as best as possible from finding the place. Enchantments are similarly cast to make the seemingly modest glasshouse infinitely bigger and larger on the inside, much to the befuddlement – then forgetfulness – of mortals.

In here, she learns to keep busy and allow the plants to occupy her time. She grows fruits and vegetables: grapes and olives, pineapples and oranges, cucumbers, apples, blackberries, blueberries, boysenberries and strawberries, lettuce, tomato and cabbages… she grows as much as possible and impossible, relying on the powers gifted to her by her mother to produce things in and out of its seasons.

She grows flowers too; dahlias, lilies, orchids, carnations hydrangeas, peonies, asters, chrysanthemums and more.

Succulents, cacti, ferns and an array of magical plants… Delta nursery offered a dizzying array of plants. She even grew wheat, as a dedication to her mother. Soon, it becomes a renown nursery in New York City; and demigods, mortals and other beings alike clamour to buy her plants.

Though she still visits camp, Katie buys herself a small apartment near her nursey and dedicates herself to expanding her business. Before long, she forgets about Travis Stoll, and what could've been (she later learns from Connor that he'd been studying commerce – a far cry from what she imagined – but she doesn't care, she tells herself.)

Earned and viciously fought for, for Katie Gardner is nothing but thorough in her goals

(Connor had watched her closely when he let it slip and Katie focused on keeping her face blank.

She snips busily away at a bonsai, humming in acknowledgement and politely inquires how he was faring. Connor purses his lips and answers after a beat, "good," and that was that.)

Miranda, her closest sibling and now recently turned botanist, continues to visit daily and help around wherever she can. An avid gossiper and more socially connected these days than Katie was, she dutifully updated Katie on the goings-on back at Camp Half-Blood. Hence, it was then finally inevitable, as they were potting orchids for a grandmother who lived in the upper east-side in familiar silence, that she broached the subject that Katie had fought so doggedly to keep away from.

"You know," she said carefully, hands working nimbly to surround the orchids, "he came to visit camp last week."

Katie didn't need asking who Miranda was speaking off. Her voice habitually took upon a certain tone every time she brought him up as if he was someone important to her (he wasn't, she repeats to herself, he never was). She ignored her and continued to pat the soil around the orchid down, crooning softly at it to lift its stem higher.

"He asked about you. I told him you worked at a nursery now. He said it seemed like something you'd do," Miranda continued. Katie grunted and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, streaking soil across her forehead.

Her silence seemed to annoy Miranda as she demanded in exasperation, "Are we ever going to talk about it?" She threw her hands in the air. At that, Katie looked at Miranda and feigned ignorance.

"Talk about what?"

"Travis Stoll."

"Oh, him." Katie replied easily and walked towards the counter, orchids in hand and Miranda trailing behind, "Haven't seen him for five years, but last I saw him he was an irritating  _ónos_." Katie paused thoughtfully. "Connor's cool though, he visited a couple of weeks ago." She started gently lowering the orchids into a crate for the grandmother to pick up.

The air was humid in the glasshouse and Miranda fanned herself as she leaned against the counter and sighed. "He admired you, you know. Everyone knew he was crazy for you…" She fiddled with a fallen flower pedal, glancing up at her dear sister. "Except you."

Katie's heart skipped a beat, and she faltered. She hadn't perceived that, though she sometimes toyed with the idea of it, a fanciful passing and nothing more.

"Water under the bridge," she said and closed the crate with an air of finality.

Miranda hummed disbelievingly and jabbed an accusing finger, "You liked him too! Don't deny it!"

In fact, Katie didn't know (He loves me… he loves me not… Her fingers pick at the petals of a white daisy), and she didn't want to know. Instead, she shrugged and moved on to packaging the following set of orchids.

Miranda sighed again and changed the subject. "Percy finally proposed to Annabeth," she offered.

Smiling apologetically, Katie grasped the proverbial olive branch and moved away from thoughts of mischievous blue-eyed boys and maybes.

It's nearly a month later when he appears.

She's sitting behind the counter, snacking on some strawberries, cataloguing her inventory of plants and wondering whether she possesses enough time to breed asphodels for Hades – Nico had appeared a couple of days earlier and had said, quite urgently, that his father required asphodels – for what, she had no clue nor why he couldn't grow them himself when a familiar, but long forgotten voice, punctured the air.

"Katie Gardner?"

For a moment she pauses dumbly, strawberry halfway to her mouth as she thinks, it couldn't be, it can't be, and slowly looks up.

He'd filled out some. When before he was somewhat lanky, all bones and raw edges, he now exudes a subtle, lean sense of strength. Still tanned, his hair had lightened somewhat but he was still familiar, still her Travis; still with the same unruly auburn curls hanging over glittering eyes, the same angular face, the same broad shoulders and long fingers that itched to steal and pick and touch.

But now there was a look of uncertainty swimming in his eyes; his movements were stilted, as if unsure how to hold himself in her presence. She wonders how he must visualize her; she had forgotten to shower earlier, and wore the same pair of dirt-stained overalls she'd been wearing for the past week. Her hair had been lobbed short – an aggressive encounter with a bewitched Venus fly-trap had arranged that – and curled damply to the back of her neck in the humid heat.

Suddenly self-conscious, she tucks an unruly strand of hair and clears her throat. "Travis Stoll."

He rapidly blinks, and she notices with shock, a faint, pale scar that lines his throat, just below his Adam's apple. Her eyes flick back towards him questioningly and he smiles back sheepishly at her reaction.

The motion made Katie ache. She missed the familiarity they once had, despite their fierce and confusing rivalry. Now, an awkward, thick tension fills the air, neither wanting to speak first.

In his arms nestle a bouquet of lilies. Stupidly, she realises he was here to buy flowers (she did run a nursery, after all) and moves to speak when he suddenly cuts in.

"Miranda told me that you were working at a nursery," he says haltingly, cautiously, "but I didn't realise you worked in this one."

The implication that he'd been avoiding her stung. "I don't," she says curtly. "I own this place."

"Ah."

An awkward beat passes. Katie notices that he’s dressed finely; in dark jeans and a striped-button up, and wonders whether the lilies were for a date.

A bitter pang of jealousy welled up, unwilling and unwanted.

"Seeing someone special today?" she quips, unable to bear the look on his face.

"What?" he asks, somewhat dumbly, and shifts his legs. "Um, you could say that," and he swipes his fingers through his air and chuckles tightly.

Katie nods at him, unsure what to say and glances away.

"Katie, I – "

She stops him there. It hurt too much to see him, after telling herself for so many years he didn't matter (he doesn't, she tells herself, he still doesn't), seeing him here confused her. Consequently, she stops him before he can say anymore, smiles pleasantly at him and says, "That's 8.50, thanks."

Once more, he stares dumbly at her, then looks down at the lilies in his arms and as realization clicks in his head, he thrusts them almost unceremoniously onto her counter, and fumbles for the change in his pockets.

She fixes an affable smile at him even as her hands tighten on the countertop at the familiarity of the sight. Finally, he fishes a crumpled ten-dollar bill and passes it to her. Their fingers brush as they exchange hands, and a small thrill rushes down her spine. She notices Travis tremor slightly at the contact but tells herself to overlook it.

Again, tense silence reign between the two, as she busies herself with swapping the bill for some change. When she looks up again, his eyes have darkened with a glimmering intensity that causes her breath to hitch. But Travis Stoll was something she can't have. Not after all this time, and not after all their history.

She hands him the change and the lilies and glances again at the pale scar adorning his throat. "I hope you have a nice day, Travis Stoll," she says and smiled politely -distantly - at him.

It's his cue to leave, but he hesitates and she tilts her head at him, quizzical.

Finally, he clears his throat and turned to leave, "I – I'll see you then, Katie Gardner," and steps out of her nursery, her territory. He paints a painful picture standing at her threshold, hair almost brushing the ceiling of the door because he was so tall (she had nearly forgotten). It reminds her again of the first time he'd left. At long last, he leaves.

She cranes her neck, making sure he was truly gone before shakily letting out a loud exhale, lowering her head into her arms.

Her mind buzzes as she mulls over their brief reunion. She'd never expected, in all her little daydreams, for them to meet so incidentally. That nothing but pure fate (he hadn't been looking for her, as she'd hoped.) would put them together. She'd never imagined that when they met again it would be like this; stilted conversations and off-centred eye contact. She'd always imagined that, despite the years and distance, they'd fall easily into their easy banter, retorts bounding off each other's lips. This current Travis, awkward and hesitant with her (never with her), felt strange and unwelcoming.

_'I didn't realise you worked in this one.'_

Travis' voice wafts unbiddenly into her mind, and she groans and slumps further into her rickety chair. He had all but confirmed her worst fears, that he'd been avoiding her all these years at college and hadn't wanted to see her though she had clue as to why.

_'He admired you, you know. Everyone knew he was crazy for you… except you.'_

Again, Miranda's voice echoing from conversations past slips through. She doesn't recognize what it meant now when he'd so clearly moved on, as evident from the years of absence and the lilies. Katie groans and rubbed her eyes tiredly, feeling a headache coming on. This, at least, hadn't changed, he nevertheless managed to give her hell, present or not.

 _Strawberries_ , thought Katie weakly, she needed strawberries and paws weakly to the left for her favourite basket of fruit. When she had swiped the air a couple times only to come about mysteriously empty-handed, she peered at the space they had once filled.

Her strawberries, which had once sat atop a pile of bills, were suspiciously gone. Next, it hit with frightening clarity what had occurred.

Travis Stoll had stolen her strawberries.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone makes an unexpected visit.

It's another three weeks before she sees him again.

In the meantime, she continues to plant and grow and pretend. She pretends that meeting Travis Stoll after five years doesn't change a thing, and even if her heart does stutter when she spots unruly curls hanging over glittering eyes walking into her nursery only to realise, embarrassingly, that it was only Connor coming for a visit, then well, she pretends it means nothing either, though her face is flushed when she greets him and he arches a crooked brow at her.

Miranda continues to visit frequently and though, on multiple occasions she's close, so close, to spilling her secrets, she stops herself, words slithering back into her mouth and heart because she tells herself, it means nothing.

She concedes to herself, however, that she may not be as adept at adopting her own mantra. Her body betrays her, and thrice, she manages to mistake her customer's orders. Miranda slips her a concerned look when she notices it the second time – she nearly gives a mortal aconite, highly poisonous, meant for a minor goddess – but says nothing.  
She even manages to go on a date. After her third slip-up, she works up the courage and asks, almost desperately, one of her regulars whether he'd like grabbing coffee with her. He's two years older and blinks comically at her from behind silver-framed glasses when she asks. He agrees, after a beat, and she's unsurprised. She's seen the desire lurking in his eyes when he flirts casually with her in encounters past.

To her surprise and pleasure, the coffee date goes well. He's kind and sweet and attentive, brows furrowed over an iced macchiato as he watches her speak enthusiastically of the healing properties of chamomile – of all things – and importantly, he helps her pretend.

It's only on their second date, when he's walking her home from a night at a rooftop bar, that he glances at her from behind half-lidded eyes and bluntly asks, "So who's the guy?"

"What!" she splutters and nearly trips over her feet before his hands clamp around her waist and steady her. Her face flushes red. She hopes he can't see it in the near darkness but a look his way confirms her fears as he grins at her with satisfaction.

"Ahh, so there is a guy," he says dryly.

"There really isn't," Katie says with a huff and crosses her arms at him, attempting to emulate her bossy self.

He hums disbelievingly and places a gentle hand at the small of her back to prod her forward. They continue walking and her heart races as she fights thoughts of blue-eyed boys from her mind.

"I don't mind terribly," he finally says silently, "if you used me. But we should probably stop seeing each other like this." He smiles apologetically.

She's unsure how to respond and curses Travis for ruining even this. After that night, she worries that things would be awkward between them – he's still one of her regulars, and one must be professional – but he mentions nothing of their disastrous date and continues to flirt easily with her when he comes to pick up flowers for his ailing mother.

She's in her office late one night, attempting to sort her finances and is considering whether it was at long last time to hire help when a loud shattering noise outside breaks her attention.  
Knowing she had just locked up, she's up instantly and immediately surmises it to be a thief – it had happened once before – and slips her knife out from under the desk. She didn't survive two bloody wars just to be bested by a mere mortal. Once more, something shatters. Whoever this thief was, he was absolutely terrible at it and hears the distinct shuffling of feet. 

She hears the thief creep closer to her office, so she turns the lamp off and creeps silently to stand beside the door, ready to maim whoever comes forth.  
Her heart beats rapidly, like an untamed hare when she hears the doorknob jingle once, twice, before opening smoothly, and when she finally sees a pale hand clenched tightly around the knob, she lunges forward and arcs her knife on a downward strike before the thief moves faster than she expects, blocking her strike with a hand clenched firmly on her arm and slams her bodily into the wall.

Her head tips back and hits the plastered wall with a sickening crack before the thief suddenly loosens his grip and promptly collapses on her. She's too surprised to think and catches him, dazed, before she hears, "Hey, Kit-Kat."

Gods, she pleads, no fucking way.

His body is dead weight as he bores down on her and she knows instantly, that something's wrong. His breath rattles weakly where his mouth grazes her neck, head bowed over, and when she shifts to wrap her arms more comfortably under his armpits, he hisses and coughs wetly.

Katie tenses and fear wells in her body as her mind runs through worse case scenarios. Travis mauled by a hellhound or attacked by roving empousa. Travis, if he hadn't managed to drag himself here; bleeding out in a ditch, eyes glassy and alone (so, so alone). Five years may have passed since they last met, but damn it if she'd allow him to die under her care, he'd taken an arrow for her in the second Titan war despite knowing the consequences and she won't let him down now, not when they've got so much to clear.

She shuffles backwards slowly, Travis in tow, and blindly grasps out in the dark to find something to support herself before grasping the edge of the desk. "Travis," she gasps out, hands roving the desk for the lamp switch, "Tell me what happened."  
Her elbow accidentally jolts him when she turns around to find the switch quicker, desperate to examine the damage and skᾰ́tᾰ, where is that damn switch, she thinks to herself even as he grinds out a low keening noise at the impact. She whispers an apology but smiles triumphantly to herself when she finds the switch, flicks it on, deposits him onto the chair and steps back to inspect him.

Her smile falters, however, when she discerns him under the light. He notes her look and lifts his mouth up exhaustedly at her, eyes glassy.

"Gryphon attack," he states simply.

There's blood on her arms and blood splattered across the floor, glittering crimson in the light and even more blood soaking the fabric of his ripped hoodie. He's gripping his shoulder tightly, though his hand shakes and tremors rack through his body and she can see, when he leans over, more blood soaking the back of her chair.

She steps forward. "Take off your hoodie," she demands, rage and terror colouring her voice and oh, oh she is so angry because how dare he intrude on her haven, like the thief he is and terrorise her with his bleeding battered body and it feels worse, hurts worse than any prank he's pulled before.

Her hands are already moving to lift up his hoodie when his breath hitches in pain. "Easy, Kit-Kat," he wheezes out. "I didn't realise you were so eager to get me naked." Though his words are suggestive, his tone is anything but so she takes the hint and moves slower, revealing a sweat-slicked torso inch-by-inch with his help.  
It feels intensely intimate as they pull at the hoodie, his gaze boring into hers. She tells herself to focus, but they finally drag it off, and she throws it carelessly to the side. As she fears, there are two pairs of open gashes just beneath the side of his collarbone, and the left side of his upper-body is littered with angry purplish-green bruises. The gash – serrated and foul – on his left-side is encrusted with dried blood; she sees with relief that it has stopped its bleeding, though the one Travis continues applying pressure on continues to weep profusely. She ignores it for a moment to check his back but the wounds there – multiple long, jagged lines of red – appear superficial, so she thanks the gods for this one blessing and returns her attention to his front.

She prods gently at his bruising before Travis jolts in his chair and swears loudly, "Fuck!"

"Language," Katie chides automatically, but it confirms her fears that his ribs were either fractured or bruised.

Travis chuckles at that but winces at the movement. "At least that hasn't changed."

She's unsure what he means, but by now her movements are clinical and mind blissfully blank as she focuses entirely on keeping him alive. She gets up to grab her first-aid box near her filing cabinet and jerks it bodily across the floor before depositing it by his feet. Vaguely, she remembers ordering Travis to swing across the chair because when she looks back up from cataloguing her inventory; there's only a small block of ambrosia left, she registers disappointedly, but there's a saline solution, bandages of varying sizes, cotton swabs, gauze, crepe and dressing strips- he's straddling the chair, one arm holding the back tightly and other still clamped on his shoulder while he pants lowly, head hung.

The sight distorts her because never has she seen him this exposed. Physically yes, sweltering days by the camp lake had seen to that, but his face has lost the carefully guarded look he hides under off-kilter jokes and easy smiles and he's still achingly beautiful, lean muscles taught and bronze skin glistening.

Confused, Katie shakes herself then stands up to feed him the ambrosia. It's not much, but it'll help speed the healing process and staunch the bleeding. There's laughter laced in his eyes even as he opens his mouth obediently for her to pop it in, and apparently, her dumbfounded stares did not go unnoticed. As soon as he swallows, he moans gratefully and the scratches and bruises on his body immediately begin fading. His face, pallid and grey just before, begin to flush with colour and his breathing comes out a little easier.

Again, Katie sends a blessing to the gods for the healing powers of ambrosia.

The sound sends a little shiver down her spine but she ignores it instead to place a steadying hand on his chest and saline solution in the other. "I'm going to have to flush out the blood," she delivers and shakes the bottle gently.

Travis merely nods and closes his eyes, "I trust you," he says, voice raspy.

That causes her to falter, the easiness in which he places his life in her hands, but she nods back and starts pouring the solution down his right-side and carefully swipes at the blood and grime with a cotton pad. His back arches at the contact and hands grip the chair tighter, but other than that he's still and silent under her care. Finally, it's done, and she rubs a salve into it before pressing down a bandage over it and swiping the edges down. Next, she repeats her actions for his left-side, and he shifts to allow her better access. This time, however, her hair continues brushing into her eyes and when she pauses to fix it for the third time, he notices and reaches out to sweep it out the way and hold it to the side of her neck.

She stills at the contact, and he smiles innocently at her, apparently now well enough for this. "Is there something wrong?" he asked, voice low and grumbling.

Yes, she thinks, there is something very wrong with him looking like the devil incarnate, grinning at her with a gleam in his dark, blown-out pupils whilst he's very, very naked. Her face flushes and she says primly, "Your hands are dirty," before somewhat viciously tipping the rest of the solution down his wound. His breath hitches before turning into a surprised bark and she finishes bandaging the wound with brisk efficiency.

"I need to do your back now." He complies with a nod, letting go of her hair but not without sweeping the back of her ear with his thumb.

His back is slick with sweat and blood, and she wipes it off with more cotton pads and repeats the same steps as before. The long slashes down his back aren't as severe as the ones on his front. She decides simply to cover them with a roll of gauze.

Finally, she's done, and leans against the desk in exhaustion and tells him so. He cranes his head to peer at his back and grunts at her work before he swivels the chair around to face her. He looks better than before, though she suspects he might also be concussed, judging from the dazedness that still colours his eyes. For a moment they're both silent, and she watches him prod his ribs gently only to wince.

"How're the ribs?" she asks, whilst massaging the back of her head. There's a dull pain at the base of her head, and she struggles to understand why.

"Better than before, they should heal properly by tomorrow," he says shortly. "Thanks for that." He ducks his head in uncharacteristic shyness.

She only hums in response and pulls her fingers back, only to find them coated in oozing blood. She's staring at it dumbly, wondering when she must've injured herself before Travis also zeroes on it, and looks at her sharply.

"Katie." He rarely calls her that, she thinks. "Where did you get that?" His face is hard and alert.

She looks at him. He blinks at her. Almost simultaneously, they both realise how.

A body slamming into her and causing her head to tip back, hitting the plastered wall with a sickening crack.

His face flushes with shame and he reaches out to touch her before she flinches. He's giving her both a guilty and concerned look. She detests it, hates how it makes her feel weak when she knows she's strong, strong enough to build her own plant empire and strike out on her own and it makes her feel as if she can have things she shouldn't- can't have, not now not ever.

"Katie," he says again, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry, but please - " and here he sounds desperate, almost reverent, " - please, let me see it."

She hates him for it, but she knows she's being foolish and can't blame him for attacking when he was injured and concussed so she moves towards him and sweeps her hair to the side. He shuffles further into the chair and pats his lap, indicating for her to sit there when she draws the line.

"No," she says flatly. "Hells, no, I'm not sitting there."

"Katie, come on." His gaze is serious, no trace of a joke left. I can barely move and I need to see it."

She knows he's right, it's beginning to throb more now that she's aware of it, and moves to sit on the edge of the chair, resolving to keep as much space as possible between them. Travis sighs and winds his arms around her and hauls her backwards. It elicits a surprised huff from her but he's already busy sweeping her hair upwards and examining the wound, prodding gently with dexterous fingers.  
The heat of him is distracting, and this close he smells of sweat and the tang of wooden smoke. She's taught against him, tension coursing through her body before he says, as he rips open an antiseptic patch and cleans her wound, "Relax," and there, she thinks darkly, is the bite of a smirk, "I don't bite."

“That’s not what I hear.” She grits out.

“Oh? I can demonstrate if you’d like then.” 

She hates this, hates how he can flirt and goad her easily while she struggles to tell herself he's something she can't have. So she gathers a deep breath, and says, "Stop."

He pauses. "Stop helping you?" His voice is extremely close to her ear, teasing.

In that moment, surrounded by the thought, he almost died, everything she had kept bottled up for so long inside her explodes.

"Stop acting like you care." It escapes her with a sob she can't stop. It's more painless, a small detached part of her thinks, to say it when he can't see her but she can feel him.

He's still behind her, and she catches her breath and continues. "Stop pretending we're friends." All these years she waited for him, for him to visit at least, only to realise he'd seen everyone else but her; Miranda, Percy and Annabeth, Lou Ellen, Clarisse, Will Solace, Nico, his siblings… only to hear second-hand, third-hand that he'd been around. It wasn't as if she liked him, still, she denies this to herself but she'd always thought they ran somewhere close, somewhere between rivalry and something more.

"Stop pretending you didn't just leave for five years." He's still silent against her. "Like as if I didn't mean anything to you." She knows this is what she's constantly struggled with, the idea that she indeed meant nothing to him. That she was just another victim and nothing more. She'd always thought there could've been more, in between the pranks and banter and heady looks and she despises how he absorbs her thoughts because of this, because of this unfinished feeling.

"You've always mattered," he ultimately says, voice faint and she scoffs at this.

"I never meant-" he tries again but she paralyses him with a disbelieving laugh.

"You can stop now," she says angrily, allowing her emotions to get the better of her. "Just stop pretending. You're a good liar, but you don't need to lie with me." She shakes her head. Never with me, she thinks and knows she can demand his honesty at the very least.

Tired out and embarrassed with herself, Katie moves to get up and leave. She's done her duty and thinks only of leaving him even if he feels warm and safe beside her. But before she can even walk away, his hand snakes around her wrist and jerks her towards him, and she scarcely has enough time to catch the armrests before falling onto him.

His hands cup her face and tangle in her dark, chestnut hair and she moves to pull away but the openness of his face thwarts her. His pupils are dilated with shock, the pools of lead eating away at the clear blue of his irises but more alarmingly, she can read the terror and guilt on his face, like a wild-hearted hare, and she's shocked further when she can read desire written over his lips.

He compels her attention now. "Katie," he tries again and his voice is demanding, "Ask me. Ask me what ambrosia tastes like to me."

She's uncertain whether she wants to know, whether she wants to cross over that fragile line that keeps them apart. "What does ambrosia taste like to you?" she whispers, frightened.

"Strawberries," he whispers back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this one! Leave a review or anything you'd like to add on how I write or whether I've managed to capture their personalities well :)


	4. Chapter 4

She’s not sure who lunges first.

 

All she remembers after his declaration is a blissful beat where nothing happens, each shocked by the other, then -

 

“Shut up and kiss me, Stoll,” and they move towards each other.

 

Their teeth clash awkwardly at first as they move towards each other but soon they fall into a steady rhythm, a game of push and pull as they draw out lingering kisses from another. Strawberries, she thinks to herself as he kisses her gently, tipping her chin upwards with long fingers. For him, ambrosia tastes like strawberries. She can barely register the importance of this, not when his calloused fingers tangle and scrape her scalp and all she wants now is to forget, forget the long years of hurt and confusion between them and wants only him. Just for a moment, nothing but him.

 

Ignoring their wounds, Katie surges forwards and twists her legs around to straddle him, eliciting a strangled croak. His hands are frozen by her side, eyes glassy with shock as she kisses him harder, deeper, but soon he acquiesces. Travis shuts his eyes and kisses her just as hard, adapting rapidly. His hands are everywhere, skimming her back, the swell of her breast and burning a path across her shivering body. Finally, he settles for tangling one hand in her hair and hooking the other under her leg, bringing her closer to him until they’re pressed flush together.

 

They continue like this; seconds, minutes, Katie can’t tell, but soon she pulls back briefly, gasping for air before she glances at the scar lining his throat, glistening like a spider web in the faint light. Heat pools in her belly when she looks slyly at her mark of possession and she leans in, grazing the scar with her teeth until his breath hitches.

 

“This doesn’t mean,” she says, and presses faint, feathery kisses onto the scar, “that we’re done talking.”

 

“I still hate you,” she adds and bites viciously down.

 

He groans and jerks beneath her and only manages to wheeze out a “yes ma’am,” before he snaps his hips upwards, shocking her still, and moves eagerly to skim his mouth on her ear.

 

His teeth nip at the curve of her earlobe before he bites down and _tugs_. A jolt of heat surges through her and she struggles to hold in a breathy moan before he does it again and whispers hotly in her ear, “Listen Kit-Kat,” he says insistently and moves down to press open-mouthed kisses to the curve of her slender neck. She’s quivering at the feeling and can barely heed his voice as she clings to him. “I need to tell you something,” and moves further down to her collarbones, “I stole your strawberries,” he says, voice gravelly with burning heat, and she dimly remembers the stolen strawberries from their first encounter in years. Then, looking at her with wicked, lust-filled eyes, he slowly bites down and sweeps his tongue over the sensitive spot, soothing the pain. It’s all she can take before a whimper escapes her and she can feel his roguish smile pressed against her collar.

 

“I know, you idiot,” she bites out, but it comes out breathier than she intends and judging by the throaty chuckles coming from Travis, he knows it too.

 

Katie growls at this, feeling suddenly exposed and tugs roughly at his curls to move his face upwards and back to her mouth. He complies eagerly and soon his mouth is pressed firmly against hers and gods can he kiss, she thinks dizzily as he sweeps his tongue and nips at her bottom lip before pressing down on the jolts of pain with an expert move. He tugs on her hair and she jerks against him in surprise, eliciting a deep moan from him before he kisses her again. Hazily, she thanks whoever taught him to kiss like this even as he drinks her dry.

 

He laughs at this and pulls on her hair again as she realises with dulled embarrassment that she’d said it aloud, “You do this to me,” and kisses her temple.

 

She flushes at the sentiment, that he wanted her and feels a sudden rush of affection towards him, despite everything. Emboldened by this, she bores down on him and knocks him roughly further into the chair by his shoulders intending to kiss him to death, when-

 

Travis barks out in pain at the pressure and sits up in surprise, causing Katie to promptly lose her balance and fall onto the hard, unforgiving floor. They look at each other in surprise, panting hard and adrenaline still running in their veins. Katie notices guilty that his hand were now clamped around his bandaged shoulder.

 

She swallows thickly and his eyes flicker to her mouth, “Is your,” she gulps down the dryness of her throat, “is your shoulder alright?”

 

He winces a little, “I’m fine,” and offers a smile, but the edges are tight and laced with pain. A deep pang resonates within Katie when she sees this. She may demand his honesty but whether he complies is a different matter.

 

As she stares at him, she realises how utterly undone he looks. He breathes heavily as his hand clenches and unclenches on the armrest, other still pressed against his ragged wound. His head is tipped back, face flushed and lips red and swollen, and she watches him hoarsely as his Adam’s apple bobs as he gasps for air.

 

Gods, he was still beautiful.

 

His head tips back down when he notices her watching and smiles that infuriating smirk and says innocently, “is there something wrong?”

 

The easiness in which he flirts with her irritates her. She’s disappointed really, that even now, after everything – fingers scraping the back of his neck, his rumbling laughter against her collarbone – he’d hide himself again behind flirtatious words and easy smiles. He’s a liar and a thief, Katie reminds herself, and abruptly, she feels incredibly stupid for falling for his words. She gets up on shaky legs and the world suddenly tips over, unsteadying her, before Katie quickly grasps the edge of the desk with trembling fingers.

 

Travis looks concerned as he watches this and _gods_ , she can’t handle this, the push-and-pull that characterises their every move when all Katie really wants is a straight answer.

 

“Katie, you okay?”

 

No, she thinks dizzily, I’m not okay, and she tries telling him but her mouth opens and closes silently, and it feels like he’s speaking to her from outside a bubble. Distant, like he’d been for so, so long.

 

His large hands cover hers in concern, and she nearly melts at the sentiment but almost instantly, she wants to snatch her hand away and step back. To her, Travis was like the wind, gone and back again with no telling when only to steal her breathless when he does. She’s not ready to let him in, she decides, still hurting, despite their attraction, despite how she feels wrapped in his arms, impossibly safe because she realises with dread, Travis Stoll stole her heart ages ago and she’s not sure if she holds his.

 

Because he’s a thief, always stealing the things she holds closest and careless of the damage he wreaks when he runs.

 

“I can’t,” she starts, and the room begins to feel too stifled, in between him crowding her in with his intense gaze and the salty tang of blood.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers at him, then firmly, “I’m sorry,” and squeezes past him and out the room, wanting to get out. He shouts after her but she ignores him, and misses the way his palms press against his eyes dejectedly.

 

She bursts outside the office and leans against the closed door, heart pounding. He’s always ruining her plans, she thinks bitterly, plans of moving on and making a life for herself that doesn’t involve him. Looking around, Katie takes an inventory of her nursery to calm herself down — there are two broken vases, courtesy of her intruder, she notes — before realising with embarrassment that all her plants had grown out of hand.

 

Her nursery had turned into a mess. Flowers burst from every crack in the space: tulips, sunflowers, roses. Her ferns had grown into miniature trees and vines crept and winded across the floor.

 

Katie looks on, realising that the plants must’ve been tuned to her emotions when they were kissing each other dry and senseless. She flushes with the awkwardness of it, even as a tingle runs through her body, knowing that Travis would understand what it means. Desperately, not wanting him to steal this from her, at least, she coaxes her plants to return to their regular state, but they refuse her commands. Finally, Katie throws her hands in the air and stalks of deeper into her nursery, desperate to find somewhere she can sit and think, and very, very far from the object of her mind.

 

Before long, she slows down and realises with surprise that her feet had taken her to her strawberry patch which had remained, blissfully, unchanged. Katie crouches down to sit in the dirt and run her fingers through the damn, brown soil, inhaling the heady scent of sweet strawberries filling the air. She’s not sure how long she sits there; a minute, an hour, crumbling the earth with her fingers and eyes closed but soon she hears him slowly approach and stand beside her.

 

“You’re all fine now, you don’t need me.” She says firmly, hands tugging at a small weed.

 

“That’s not why I came.”

 

“Then you didn’t have to come at all.”

 

He lets out a strangled noise of exasperation at this. “Did you not hear me before?” He asks, hands swinging wildly, and she knows what he means.

 

“I heard you, you said,” and she makes air quotes here, “that’s not why I came.”

 

He scoffs at her, “Don’t play dumb. That’s my act.”

 

“Hardly an act, that’s all real.”

 

“Kit-Kat, come on.”

 

She sighs at this and stops her fiddling, lying to herself and him, “Could’ve meant anything. For all I know, it’s only because you enjoyed stealing strawberries so much.”

 

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

 

Now she looks at him directly, brown eyes locking into blue, “No, I really don’t.”

 

For his part, he doesn’t falter and only crouches down towards her. “Yes, you do,” he’s too close, and his voice is a delicious rumble. Katie has to lean on her elbows to keep the distance, heart pounding, “you’re just too scared to admit it.”

 

He’s closing in, eyes never breaking away from hers and moves to place an arm by her side, “That’s not the Katie I know.” He murmurs, gaze searching hers. His other arm goes around her too and he’s bracketing her in; body above her and arms and legs by her side.

 

That makes her angry. How _dare_ he act like he knows her when he hasn’t even been around.

 

“Yes, I’m scared,” she remarks flippantly, furiously, and in a reverse of state, hauls herself upwards by his arms, “but at least I’m not the one running. At this, she forces him viciously down and his bare back hits the ground with a pained bark but she can’t bring herself to care. He’s surprised and she notes with interest the beginnings of his arousal. Good, she can use that to her advantage.

 

“So tell me,” and now she’s straddling him, hips neatly aligned with his, and never has she felt more powerful, more in control than now, looking down on his taut, glistening body, “why did you run?”

 

Everything she’s ever felt, she communicates in this. The why, why, why dancing in her mind as she wonders why he never visits her, why he’s waited until now to see her and why he still matters, even after all this time but maybe even more so now than before when she’d have to constantly swat his sneaky fingers away from her strawberries and their easy bickering would continue, unbroken, as they crossed paths in their routines.

 

Why.

 

He’s silent for a moment, eyes glittering angrily as he watches her, curls hanging in his face. His breath comes out in short pants; because of pain, surprise, desire, Katie doesn’t know but she’s willing to wait this out and end this once and for all.

 

“Well?” Katie demands and grinds down on him and a wave of pleasure shoots up her spine. She grits her teeth, telling herself to ignore the heady feeling of _him_ pressed flush against her. His breath hitches in his throat as his back arches off the floor, neck taut and fingers scrabbling for purchase on the ground. His eyes are clenched tight and he’s impossibly aroused, she can feel it, but still, she doesn’t waver.

 

“Well? Why did you run?” She demands again.

 

He won’t look at her. His head is tilted to the side and his chest heaves with exertion. Sweat pools into the hollow of his neck. She knows he’s looking at her strawberries and feels a little guilty for wrecking him, but she won’t back down, not when they’re so close.

 

Finally, he looks at her, face set and voice tight. “Ask yourself Kit-Kat, why did I come here tonight?”

 

For a moment Katie worries she’s pushed him too hard. She’d only just finished bandaging him up before deciding to unravel him. “Travis,” she says a little slowly while wondering what in _tartarus_ this has to do with anything, “you were injured in a gryphon attack.”

 

She’s a little worried she might’ve been too aggressive.

 

“Probably got soft after hanging around with frat boys for too long.” Katie adds a beat later.

 

Travis snorts and shifts under her, “Please Gardner, I handed your ass back to you a hundred times over in training.”

 

“And? That’s hardly a good basis of comparison when you know I’m superior in long-distance combat.”

 

“Yes, it is.”

 

“Is not.”

 

“Is.”

 

“Not.”

 

“…is.”

 

Katie flicks him on the forehead. It surprises her, how automatic the gesture is when they slip into their bickering. One that she undeniably misses that she can feel her heart clench.

 

Travis scowls at her from below and rubs at his forehead. “Need I remind you who took an arrow for someone?”

 

Katie rolls her eyes. Not this argument _again_. “Hah! You just tripped and got in the way.”

 

“And anyways, you only ever bring that up when you _know_ you’re losing.”

 

He pauses and cocks his head, “fair point, Kit-Kat. How much do I owe you now then?”

 

“20 drachmas.”

 

“Still!”

 

“Well, you haven’t been around to pay me back.”

 

Travis freezes almost imperceptibly and slides his eyes away from her when he answers, almost hesitantly, “that’s true.”

 

Katie internally sighs. She knew he was stalling her, derailing their conversation, but it felt so good to let go for a moment and just _bicker_. Like they’ve always done, before everything, before everything changed.

 

“Travis.” She whispers. He’s back to not looking at her, body unyielding and jaw set. It hurts, really. Having to always be the one that demands and takes while he steals and bargains until you realise you bargained away nothing and everything. She’s always been the responsible one, the nagging one, and she never really minds it but sometimes – like now – she wishes it weren’t.

 

Katie cups his face and forces him to look at her. He’s scared, she can tell. His fingers drum out a repeated rhythm on the earthy ground and she’s surprised she understands it. It was a code system him and Connor used in their pranks, ages and ages ago. She knows it, a rare quiet moment between them by the camp lake one day had seen to it, and she knows that he knows she sees it. But she’s scared too.

 

“Travis, _please_.”

 

“I came here for you.” His eyes are impossibly sad as he wraps a warm, calloused hand around her wrist. His thumb ghosts across the inner tendons of her wrists and she shivers at the gentleness of it. She wants to snatch her hand away, confidence wavering (I’m the one on top, she reminds herself), but he looks sad in a resigned way so she lets it be.

 

“The gryphons,” he grimaces, “they weren’t- it wasn’t- that wasn’t meant to happen.” He’s still looking at her, tense, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

 

He’s struggling with himself, and still his thumb swipes rhythmically over her wrist, like a lifeline.

 

“Gods, Katie. I’ve wanted you,” and it comes out in a rush, like he’s afraid she’ll hear it, “always.” He whispers.

 

Katie jolts on him in confusion and his fingers tighten on her wrist as his breath catches, reminding her of the precarious position they’re in. Her brows furrow. She wasn’t sure that this was what she expected. She may have daydreamed about it, yes, but this…

 

_Everyone knew he was crazy for you… except you._

 

Miranda’s words start to make more sense in her head. That, Katie decides, or that she was finally letting herself see what was in front of her all this time. Suddenly she feels incredibly stupid.

 

“How long?” she finally manages to say.

 

He’s never been good with his words when it came to honesty, she remembers, he’d always preferred other methods. Travis crooning out a lullaby to his half-sister when she’d woken from a nightmare, crying for her dead mother. Travis pushing her out of the way and taking an arrow to the arm meant for her chest.

 

She really does feel stupid.

 

“Since the chocolate bunnies,” he presses his fingertips to the scar against his throat like an afterthought, “maybe even longer before that.”

 

_For that long?_

 

Katie splutters and smacks his arm, attempting to gain some semblance of normalcy, “You ruined our plants! It took us a _month_ to regrow our roof!”

 

He shrugs but she knows its forced, “It was _Easter_! And the Aphrodite kids said chocolate symbolised love.”

 

She flushes at this, knowing how much he hated dealing with the Aphrodite cabin and what it’d take for him to even think of going there.

 

“Katie, I-“ and it reminds her of all the times she’s interrupted him when he begins those words, “I wanted- I wanted to make things right.” He finally says. He looks so tired, like using his words takes everything out of him.

 

“When I saw you behind that counter, I just, didn’t think that was how we’d ever meet again. Connor,” he says by way of explanation, “he told me your nursery was a good place to buy flowers. I didn’t realise you’d be the one running it.” He ends bitterly.

 

Still, after everything, this is the one thing that confuses her. Why he’s been avoiding her all these years and why he’d never give a straight answer.

 

“It made me realise how much I missed you,” he tucks her hair impulsively behind her ear, “ _gods_ Kit-Kat I’ve missed you. I’ve been so stupid.”

 

She’s so frustrated with themselves she wants to cry. They’ve both been stupid.

 

“Then why did you never come back?” Katie asks. She wants to know, needs to know and it feels like she’s burning from the inside out from the want of it.

 

They’re so still. Nothing moves, and it feels like even her plants hold their breath.

 

“Why did you never come back?” she whispers again and leans close. His mouth opens and shuts, and she knows she’s asking a lot from him but Katie needs him to use his words. It’s the one thing she understands best.

 

“Travis.” She’ll demand and take as much as she needs.

 

“I told myself I couldn’t have you,” he finally grits out and his body tightens beneath her, awaiting judgement. His fingers are clenched so tightly around her wrist it _hurts_ but Katie doesn’t mind. All they’ve done is hurt each other, a little more pain makes no difference.

 

It confuses her even more. She would’ve accepted him in a heartbeat if he’d let her. Travis isn’t done speaking yet however and continues.

 

“You’re too good for me Katie. All I ever do is lie and prank and steal. You could do so much better than me.”

 

Gods, they’re so _fucking_ stupid.

 

“I only realised that when I got to college. Everyone there is so,” his face twists as he tries to find the right word, “so fucking _normal_. You told me you wanted normal and I knew I couldn’t give that to you. So I- I thought it’d be best if we stopped seeing each other. Completely. That it’ll hurt less.”

 

She remembers this. Telling him on quiet warm nights together how she wishes for normal. Turns out neither of them know how to use their words, however. She meant normal the way a demigod might define it. Having someone there watching her back so she doesn’t die, uselessly, to some stupid monster with a grudge. Not having to survive through two wars not even a year apart. He’d thought she meant normal like living her life out as a mere mortal. Just living and dying.

 

“You idiot.” She’s trembling with the enormity of it. How stupid they’ve been. How they could’ve just, just- Katie doesn’t even know, can’t even comprehend it right now and she wants to laugh at the comically concerned look Travis gives her now.

 

“You absolute idiot. You don’t get to make the choices for me like that.” She’s half laughing, half crying at this point. “You absolute-“ she slaps his chest in frustration and he pins her arm there.

 

“Katie.”

 

He’s so concerned its sweet. “Oh shut up, Travis.” Impulsively Katie leans down and kisses him fleetingly on the lips and says the words she’s hidden for so long, even to herself.

 

“I love you, Travis Stoll.”

 

They’re nose to nose. His eyes are impossibly wide and she can see herself reflected in those dark pools. It’s almost insulting how easy those words fall from her lips after all this time. But it really has been that simple if she thinks about it.

 

He’s so still but she can feel his heartbeat racing where her palm meets his chest. Then he surges forward and catches her lips in his and swallows the gasp she lets out. His hands are cupping her face as he kisses her deeply, tongue sweeping her mouth and she’s so dizzy she needs to brace herself on the ground for support.

 

Too soon, he breaks the kiss and looks at her, and she can see the same song dancing in his eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you. He’s trembling beneath her and his body is so warm he burns feverish. “Do you mean it?” he whispers out and she can still hear the hesitance coating his words even as he runs to meet her in the middle.

 

“Do _you_ mean it?” Katie shoots back and nips the scar on his throat.

 

Hers, she thinks hazily, all hers.

 

Travis shakes his head as if shaking off a dream. “Yes.” He says and kisses her again, “yes, gods I love you, Kit-Kat,” and suddenly he moves and pushes forward and now she’s flipped beneath him. His arms and legs bracket her in, and she holds onto his forearms in shock. They flex deliciously under her touch and she soon decide it might be her favourite part of him. The way the muscles coil and move as he kisses her again and again, like he can’t get enough of her.

 

Finally, he breaks away and Katie nearly whines at the loss of him. His eyes are bright with mischief and her heart nearly bursts when she sees it. “You love me, Kit-Kat?” His voice is low and husky where his mouth grazes her ear and his fingers tangle delightfully in her lush hair. She digs her fingers into his muscled arms and pulls him flush to her, not wanting him to be the only one who wreaks blissful destruction on the other. He groans and wraps an arm around her waist; eyes fluttering shut.

 

She’s drunk on the feel of him, on the knowledge that finally, _finally_ , they were on the same page and hums thoughtfully, teasing him. “I think I might take it back,” and he laughs indulgently and nips her earlobe.

 

“Honestly. You’re a pain in the ass, you steal my strawberries, you keep stealing my _things_. You still haven’t given me back my hat.” Katie says accusingly. He laughs again, a deep throaty chuckle, and presses his fingers to her sides. He knows it’s her weak spot and she fails stifling the laugh that bursts out when he tickles her.

 

“Admit it,” he’s nosing her neck and his voice vibrates against her skin, “you love that about me.”

 

“… I might.”

 

“Yes, you do.”

 

“ _Might_.”

 

He shrugs, pressing even harder and smiles at her, “I’ll take what I can get.”

 

Katie pulls his head back towards hers and he eagerly complies. He’s kissing her senseless and she wouldn’t have it any other way; pebbles digging into her back on the hard, unyielding ground, surrounded by the heavy lushness of her favourite fruit and his lean body over hers, deliciously hot and heavy.

 

Finally, she tugs on his curls and tips his head back. He looks at her from behind half-lidded eyes, glittering with amusement and unbridled lust as he watches her purse her lips thoughtfully, gaze serious. “You know, Stoll.” Her fingers trail down the plains of his lean torso and hooks suggestively onto his belt loops, “five years is a long time. You’ve got a lot to make up for.”

 

He laughs deeply at this, and she can feel it vibrate across his entire body and smiles. “Agreed Gardner,” and his long fingers are slowly unbuttoning her blouse, eyes growing increasingly dark and his smile is wicked, like a knife in the night. “No time like the present to get started, right?” He presses filthy, open kisses to the side of her neck, trailing downwards and Katie hooks her ankles behind his back in agreement.

 

They're both still injured, wounds still present - both metaphorical and physical - but she wouldn't have him any other way.

 

"Better get a move on, then."

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

It's exactly 11 months and one week later.

 

They’re walking in a cemetery, and in Travis’s arms are a bouquet of lilies. It’s warm out; the crickets chirp their song in swells and crescendos and Katie brushes her fingers across every gravestone she passes. Her other arm is hooked tightly in Travis’s. She’s dressed in a floral sundress, straw-hat firmly planted on her head - returned by her boyfriend a week after they move in together. Travis, for his part, dresses nicely; in black jeans and white button up. His curls, however, still stick out wildly, every attempt by Katie to tame them had ultimately failed.

 

He’s quiet beside her as they walk further in. She doesn’t press him though, and only squeezes his arm reassuringly when they finally reach their destination. Connor is already there, kneeling by the headstone and head bowed over. His lips move fervently, and his eyes are screwed tightly shut and Katie realises with a heavy pang that he was praying. Travis moves automatically to join his brother but Katie jerks him back, shaking her head at him once, communicating to him silently in that one movement, _let him have some time alone with his mother_.

 

So, they stand there a while. Travis’s eyes never leave his brother whilst Katie’s never leave his. Behind her, she can hear the faint rumble of cars, nearly drowned out by the crickets, and birdsong. When she inhales, the strong, florally scent of bouquets assault her. There were so many, dotted over the field in bright bursts of colour, left to wilt and die. They’re quiet for a long time, and Katie prays to her mother.

 

_Mother help me. Help me, so I’m strong enough for the two of them._

 

Finally, Connor gets up and turns around to greet them. “Hey Travis, Katie.” His voice is strong, and his smile is bright, but he can’t quite cover the wetness glistening in his eyes. Travis breaks free of her grasp and moves towards Connor and hugs him tightly and Katie feels awfully like a bystander even when she was invited.

 

They were lounging in bed; Katie’s head curled on his lap and his hand smoothing down her hair, fingers tangling and gently scraping her scalp. Sunlight streamed through the window; highlighting the particles drifting in the air and Katie was nearly asleep, drowsy from the warmth when he spoke. 

 

“It’s mom’s anniversary next week.”

 

She was drifting cosily into unconsciousness when he said this, and Katie slowly blinked her eyes open. He looked down at her, eyes warm but face unreadable. His hand continued smoothing down her hair. She knew what this meant. Mom’s anniversary. The anniversary of her death. It was the reason why he’d fallen back into her life again that fateful day. Katie moved her hand to find his and linked them together. His palm was warm and rough from callouses; a testament to his abilities as a fighter. She knew how much she meant to him, to both him and Connor.

 

“I’ll be visiting her with Connor.”

 

He doesn’t ask her to come with him and she knows he won’t ask that of her. But Katie knows him, knows how much he’ll sink into his own head and thoughts if no one is there to pull him out.

 

“I’ll come with you,” she said automatically.

 

His hand paused on her head and he looked down at her with such surprise it almost worried her that he thought she wouldn’t ask. Not after everything.

 

“Really?”

 

Katie flicked him on the forehead, “Yes, you idiot.”

 

He stared at her for a moment before pouncing, flipping her underneath him with uncharacteristic grace. His eyes were blown wide and mouth open as he looked down at her, hands splayed possessively across her hips, pinning her into the soft cotton sheets of their bed. Katie wasn’t sure why he was so surprised but smoothed the lines creasing his brow anyways.

 

“You’ll come with me?”

 

Katie laughed at him exasperatingly, “Yes! Off course I would, why wouldn’t I?”

 

He didn’t reply and instead leaned down to kissed her deeply. When he broke off the kiss to look at her – a mad glint in his eye but filled with so much adoration –  Katie groaned in frustration and tried pulling his mouth back onto hers before he placed a single, long finger on her lips.

 

“Did no one ever teach you patience?” he asked and shook his head in mock condescension.

 

Katie snorted and moved to pull his head back to hers, “And I thought you were the eager one.” Still he refused to budge, and she tilted her head in question before he slowly slid down her body, kissing her neck, her chest and her belly. A familiar grin graced his face even as his eyes glimmered intensely, never once leaving hers, as if savouring ever expression flitting across her face as he continued his path downward.  Katie could feel the familiar heat igniting, blood thickening in her veins and pulse quickening when he finally slid off the bed and sank onto his knees, fingers gripping her calves tightly.

 

By now she was panting heavily, body trembling with anticipation even as Travis stood still, tense and silent, fingers skimming the length of her leg over and over. It was a game they played, waiting to see who would break first.

 

This time, Katie broke.

 

“Hells, Travis,” she swore breathlessly, “just hurry up already!”

 

Travis chuckled, “Who’s eager now, Kit-Kat?” He said wickedly, and it sent a tingle down her spine before he spread her thighs apart and everything turned white hot.

 

Katie flushes at the memory. Travis was generally an attentive lover, filing away everything about her that even she wouldn’t know off. But that day was different. He managed to draw her to completion with only his fingers and mouth, _thrice_ , before entering deep inside her.

 

When they break apart, Connor looks steadier on his feet and she moves to be closer with them and closes the circle they make. He smiles at her and touches her shoulder before walking away.

 

“I’ll be back. Just need some air.”

 

Katie cocks her head at Travis questioningly, but he shakes his head. Then he turns around to walk towards his mother’s gravestone but Katie hovers, unsure whether he wants her around for this.

 

He makes the decision for her, “Stay, Kit-Kat,” and she joins him and links her fingers through his. They kneel on the soft grass together, knees touching and their linked hands between them.

 

_Charlotte Stoll. 1969 – 2013. Generous of heart, of kindness, and of love._

 

She’s never met her, but her heart aches and she wonders how different things would be if she was still alive today. Guiltily, Katie wonders whether Travis and her would’ve connected again if it weren’t for the fact.

 

Travis places the lilies down, clears his throat and squeezes her fingers. “Hey, mom.”

 

His voice is as sure as his pilfering fingers. “It’s been a while since I visited, sorry about that. I graduated. Got a job offer at this cool start-up company.”

 

Katie leans her head on his shoulder, and he glances at her. “I – I’m with Katie now, like you always wished for.”

 

She lifts her head off his shoulder to stare dumbly at him, “You told her about me?”

 

He shrugs and places an arm around her, “I might’ve a little.”

 

“A little,” Katie adds drily and leans back on him, “enough for her to make plans for me then.”

 

“Okay, maybe more than a little.”

 

Katie peers at him shrewdly and he cringes under her gaze, “Right.”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

“Okay I might’ve mentioned you a couple times.” She arches a disbelieving brow at him. Travis looks back at her with practiced innocence before rolling his eyes, “Okay, I talked about you a lot. Happy?”

 

“I’m not saying anything.” She says smugly but doesn’t manage to wipe the grin of her face.

 

Travis groans and pinches her side, causing her to yelp in surprise. “Oh, fuck off, Kit-Kat.” But he says it good naturedly and pulls her closer.

 

“You definitely would’ve liked her mom, she’s the best person I know.” Now, his voice grows tighter, “I wish you could’ve met her. I’m sorry you couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t tell her I loved her sooner.”

 

She knows that sometimes he still struggles with this, with the what should’ve happened opposed to what did. But Katie made her peace long ago and realises that what stops him from doing the same is his mother.

 

“Travis,” she starts hesitantly, “you know what we’ve said about this.”   
  
“I know,” he says, shakily, then more firmly, “I know. I just, feel like I need to tell her. That’s all.”

 

They stare silently at her headstone for a moment, and Katie, feeling the need to give _something_ , grows a bed of wildflowers around it. She grows an array of colours; yellow, white, lilac, blue – and they circle the headstone protectively, bursting with brightness as Katie feeds them a river of the love she feels for the people in her life.

 

“Thanks, Kit-Kat.” He finally says.   
  
“No problem, Stoll.”

 

He smiles fondly at her, then looks back at his mother’s headstone. “I love you, mom” He whispers.

 

Finally, Travis gets up and Katie follows his lead. When he looks at her, it’s with so much love and affection it makes her heart stutter. She presses away the frown lines marring his forehead, “Don’t be sad, Travis. It’ll make you age faster.”

 

He barks a laugh at this and winds his arms around her waist, picking her up, and twirls her around, causing her to squeal. “You prick. I know you only stick around for my face.” He drops Katie down and pulls her flush to him from behind, “and my body.” He whispers seductively in her ear, chin resting on her shoulder.

 

“Hmm yes. I only stick around for your arms,” and he flexes them when he wraps his arms around her front, knowing how much she loved them.

 

They sway silently in the breeze, enjoying the moment.

 

“I love you, Katie.”

 

“I love you too, Travis."

 

And while he may have stolen her heart long ago, she knew now that she held his.

 

After all, she learned her thieving from the best.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a sinful lack of tratie fics out there.
> 
> Reviews are very welcome! This is my first piece of writing in a very, very long time so I'd love suggestions on how to improve.
> 
> I'd like to think that after surviving two wars, Travis has sobered up a little, hence I've characterised him a little more seriously than how other fics have.
> 
> beta-read by cursedhazel on fanfiction.net, as I've also cross-posted over there under my other pen name, serpen1ines.


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